


a prince's favor

by tsunderestorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Nyx wins a battle tournament in Noct's honor. It's only fair that Noct reward him with a favor.





	a prince's favor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme and originally posted [here](http://http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=2122184#cmt2122184). This prompt was just too much fun!

Despite all their advances, Lucis was still in many ways the country that was formed two thousand years ago: culturally rich, deeply appreciative of the gods and their traditions with a flair for the dramatic. It was evident in everything: the dark wood and gleaming gold decorating the Citadel at every turn, the elaborate formal wear the royal family donned for events, and the arena they’d renovated specifically for the combat tournament this year. Under the watchful light of the crystal tossing prisms of color from the midday sun they competed: dozens of black-clad figures filing out into the arena and bowing first to the king, then to the prince. This tournament was in Noctis’ honor; a celebration of both his birthday and his upcoming graduation - still months off, but exciting.

Cor had withdrawn for the year, opting instead for training Gladiolus to compete in the first tournament where his father wasn’t also a contestant. (And, Noctis suspected, to make the first-time competitors stop shaking in their boots at the mere _idea_ they might have to face off against the Immortal.) He was standing with them, formally beside his father’s throne along with Clarus, stiff and formal and _boring_. Formally, Noctis was here to support Gladiolus - it would reflect poorly, Ignis explained, for him not to make an appearance - but he didn't want to be. This was too extravagant for his taste, nothing interesting to it when it was all swords, daggers and spears and he favored the magic that flowed through his body. Which was permitted in the tournament, yes, but so few knew how to control it that it was rarely used.

He knew what would happen. Gladiolus would win, his chest would get the medal currently ensconced in a little velvet box beside his seat pinned to it and then he would brag about it for the next year because the Amicitias _always_ won. Sure enough, true to predictions, Gladio felled his first few opponents with ease, knocking them down with swings of his sword, spinning around in one smooth motion to raise his arms to the crowd among raucous cheers. 

Sighing, Noctis turned his attention to the other competitors: guards and glaives and anyone who wanted to compete. That was the thing he’d insisted on – if this was his tournament, it wasn’t just the nobility trained in combat. It was for everyone, no matter where they came from or what they did. Out of all the competitors, all the chaos of round after round announced in flashing letters on the screen above their heads his attention was drawn the most to one: a fast-moving figure that dashed around the battlefield in flashes of blue and purple sparks, flipped his opponent’s feet out from under them and barely seeming to exert any effort. _Nyx Ulric_. Noctis knew him (how could he not?) had trained with him when he’d needed to learn warping – he was a prodigy, seamlessly blending into fighting for his father like he’d served the family for generations. His feelings for Nyx were…complicated, and it was nice to admire him from afar, the way he wiped sweat off his brow and winked at the people he was victorious against, always shook their hand and congratulated him. Noble in a way half the Lucian “nobility” wasn’t.

In the end, it came down to the two of them: Gladio and Nyx. Gladio was stronger but Nyx was faster, and unburdened too by the years of formal footwork and posturing that had come with Gladio’s sword training. Noctis didn’t care much for things like this; the extent of his fighting knowledge was the game at the arcade and the bits of Gladio’s instruction that had stuck in his head but he could tell they were an even match in their own way and despite his best efforts to remain disinterested he found himself scooting to the edge of his seat. The final blow came in a flash: Nyx threw his kukri up into the sky, a high arc that Noctis couldn’t follow because of the sun shining too-bright down on them and in a second, he warped to it and came back down, knocking Gladiolus over and pinning him fast.

The whole arena erupted. _The Amicitias always won_ , and here was this almost-nameless Glaive with the blunt edge of his weapon against Gladio’s throat, _victorious_. Gritting his teeth, Gladiolus surrendered. He’d been pinned, and he’d lost. Fair and square. He staggered as he rose to his feet and Noctis knew his pride was more wounded than his body, but he resolved to make it up to him later. Sighing, he shook his head and extended his hand and Noct watched as Nyx shook it.

Noctis could feel the energy radiating off him from halfway across the arena. Watching him walk towards him felt like an eternity: like he was waiting for something to happen, something that he’d waited years for, _lifetimes_ for. Like Nyx winning this tournament was pre-ordained.

Nyx came to the dais bloodied and sweat-drenched, the remnants of his shirt hanging off one shoulder and the electric-hot crackle of borrowed magic heavy about him. He looked triumphant - barely weary, like he hadn’t just bested his fellow glaives and the Crownsguard alike. Like this was _easy_ , like Gladiolus wasn’t fuming in his seat behind Noct’s and the rest of the competitors weren’t bristling with indignation after losing to a member of the Kingsglaive.

Noctis rose from his seat the way Ignis had taught him - carefully, slowly. _You are the prince. It is in your honor that this tournament is held, on your schedule that the world turns_. He wasn’t sure about all that, but it was nice to feel some of the pressure roll off, to let the urgency and stiff, formulaic etiquette be forgotten.

“O victor,” Noctis started and _gods_ , was that his voice? All dry and quiet? “You have won the favor of the Caelum line and of the gods themselves. With this, I pronounce you champion.” It sounded _stupid_ , but he’d pulled it off just like he’d rehearsed. He moved to pin the medal to what was left of Nyx’s shirt but when he went to withdraw his hand, the glaive grabbed it, raising his head and his gaze felt like fire. His thumb was calloused and gritty when he rubbed it across Noct’s knuckles but the lips that followed were soft and wet, barely grazing the skin. It felt so… _personal_ , like they were alone even though there were thousands of people watching, like this wasn’t being broadcast to the entirety of the kingdom. It felt _dirty_ somehow and that made Noctis shiver.

“Your Highness,” Nyx offered, bowing his head and pressing Noctis’ knuckles against his forehead. “Thanks for the favor. I’ll compete in a tournament any day for you.”

Transfixed, Noctis looked at him after the first wave of feeling flushed over him. Nyx - _gods_ , what? He’d just _kissed him_. Sure, it was just his hand but still, that was the type of thing he should be doing to _Luna_ , to a princess, not a prince and definitely not one who had been harboring a crush on him since he was, oh, ten? Not that Nyx had any way of knowing that, but still -

\--

Nyx was tired. Bone-weary, the kind of exhausted that only came when you gave something your all, pushed yourself to limits you thought you had and past them to find new ones. His body hurt, the blow on his shoulder that the prince’s Shield had landed throbbed with an ache he knew was only beginning, and his vision was swimming with the heat. He could barely see the toes of his boots before him as he took the steps up the dais between the adrenaline and the cut dripping blood from his forehead.

But the prince...oh, he could see the prince perfectly. He was dressed in monochrome, Lucian black with his own personal flair. This was the first tournament he’d watched, and only, Nyx suspected, because his Shield was competing. His Shield. Gladiolus. Fuck, he’d beaten _Gladiolus_.

He knew he was pushing his luck (hell, he’d be lucky if his Shield and that advisor of his didn’t descend on him and end him right then) but he’d just _had_ to. Noctis smelled clean and kind of….citrusy, bright and sharp and tangy. Like a delicacy, like something Nyx could really sink his teeth into, peel back the layers and taste him. When his lips brushed his fingers, they were soft, thin and a little delicate (geez, he’d known the prince was a little thing but his hands seemed so...pampered) and he wanted him.

He could hear the hush that fell over the crowd when he kissed his knuckles, could hear the intakes of several thousand breaths at once. This was something you did to a princess, a queen - not usually the prince and not one so recently a man. But hey, he was the hero, and if the favor he wanted was the feeling of the prince’s bare skin against his he could have it, right?

The advisor that was always following the prince around like a shadow cleared his throat after a few long moments where Nyx swore he could feel the prince’s erratic heartbeat in his own chest and Noctis withdrew his hand slow, so slow that Nyx could see the way his fingers twitched at the absence of his lips, the way his skin hungered for the sweetness of touch.

“ _I hope to offer my congratulations to you, the hero of our tournament, more appropriately at the banquet later_ ,” Ignis prompted in nothing but a whisper and Noctis startled as if out of a dream, blinking blearily and Nyx flashed him a smile. The prince look looked at him and Nyx could feel his gaze like touches on his skin: everywhere at once, eager and hungry.

“Hopefully I can show appreciation a little better later, Sir Ulric,” Noctis said quietly, teasing him with an outdated title that he’d _never_ earn even if it were still around. “In a more…intimate setting.” He was bright red as he said it, color high on his pretty cheeks but there was a spark in his gaze that Nyx liked, that he wanted more of. Noctis knew those words were loaded.

Nyx winked. “Intimate? My specialty.”

\--

“I heard the prince himself wanted an audience with the hero of the tournament or something,” Nyx said with a dramatic flourish, bowing low and grinning up at Noctis. Playfully, he shoved the glaive’s shoulder, always familiar and utterly unruffled by class-dictated decorum.

Noctis was all dressed up for the occasion, no doubt a pretty little doll in an outfit his advisor had goaded him into. He knew the prince well enough to know that he’d never wear this much unnecessary finery willingly. But gods, he looked good. The pants were tailored expertly, hugging his pretty legs and his admittedly _incredible_ ass; he'd rolled the long sleeves of the shirt up to his elbows to show off his arms. When he’d turned around and Nyx had come face to face with him for the first time since their exchange in front of the entire arena of competitors and spectators and there had been that little tinge of something new there, something unfamiliar and enticing that he wanted to dive headfirst into. Something like desire.

Nyx wanted him. _Gods_ , he wanted him. That look, that _touch_ they'd shared after the tournament had to mean something, right? He wasn’t usually wrong about this sort of thing.

“Oh yeah? Let me know when the hero gets here, ‘kay?” Noctis said dismissively, _almost_ able to hide the way his lips quirked up into a smile.

“Hey,” Nyx said, grabbing his forearm lightly. Skin on skin again, the magic that coursed through Noctis calling out to its complement in Nyx. “I'm the hero, babe. I'm the one wearing the medal. _Your_ medal.” He ran his fingers over it, caressed the long straight metal rods of the swords, the rounded edges of the sylleblossoms crafted out of the metal.

Noctis looked at Nyx's hand curled around his forearm and then at his face. “My favor looks good on you,” he said.

Nyx had one shot, and it was lined up perfect. Who the hell would he be if he didn’t take it? He had no choice but to take it. “Yeah, and I bet I'd look good on you.”

\--

Noctis knew, dimly, that it was probably breaking some rule for the prince to sneak away with the champion of his tournament but hey - _his_ was the key word. If he wanted to spend his birthday in a deserted corridor pressed so close against Nyx he’d lost track of where they startd and began, he could.

“I want you,” Noct gasped as Nyx flattened him against the wall, lips finding the bare spots his unbuttoned collar left. Noctis had never been so intimately acquainted with the wallpaper as he was now, pressed against it as he was - the elaborate nouveau swirls pressed against his heated cheek, a welcome cool to counter the fiery press of Nyx’s mouth.

“Yeah, well the feeling’s mutual,” Nyx said as he slotted up behind him and _gods_ , he was hard already. “As I'm _sure_ His Highness can tell, right?”

“Noct,” Noctis whimpered, and when Nyx hesitated he added “Call me Noct, please…”

Nyx leaned in, fingers feather-light against Noct's face as he kissed the shell of his ear. “ _Noct…”_

Noctis could barely remember where his room was, what floor it was on, which door his key unlocked. All he could remember was how good Nyx's dick had felt straining against his pants, thick and hard against his ass and how good his fingers had felt sneaking down the back of his pants, rubbing over his hole as he’d reached around and palmed his cock. How those things were no longer _happening_ anymore because they hadn’t had any fucking lube, dammit.

They did find it eventually – his room and thankfully, the lube he kept in his bedside table and for a while after that there was silence, broken only by the wet sounds of their mouths separating, the desperate gasps for air that wasn't each other's breath. The click of Nyx's belt as he undid it to reach an eager hand inside his formal Kingsglaive-issue pants and wrap around his dick, the sound of heavy clothes rustling, of the heavy metal of Noctis’ cape clasp as it hit the floor.

Noctis fell easily into Nyx's hands - hands that had known countless lovers before him and spoke of his skill, his gentleness, the big heart that went along with his playful attitude. Champion as he was, his confident smirk told Noctis he knew he was victorious again when he drew gasps that Noctis could barely believe were his own out of him, when he made him come first clutched tight around his fingers and then on his cock.

_\--_

“So do I get champion access to this all year long? Until the next tournament?” Nyx teased when the prince got out of bed to clean himself up, smacking Noct's ass as he rolled over onto his belly and earning a scowl over his shoulder. “Or was this a one-time thing?”

Noctis tugged the sheet up to cover himself, burying the hot body Nyx had spent the past hour worshipping under unforgivingly opaque material. The gods were cruel. To rob a hero of the site of his lover coming down from what he’d done? That wasn’t fair.

“Not a one-time thing,” he mumbled, smiling when Nyx turned back to him. “And it's not just because you're the champion. I've...kind of wanted you for a while.”

Nyx came back with a washcloth and gentle hands, that same smug, playful grin Noct had gotten used to. He let him tug the sheet down, cool air on still-flushed skin, and rolled over when he was done slipping the washcloth over the backs on his thighs to clean him up. “You sure you aren't just gonna make this a treat?” Nyx asked. “Bet you'd get a little more competitor participation if you offered your cute royal ass up, wouldn't you think?”

Carefully, Nyx dodged the cat-like smack aimed for his face so it hit his shoulder instead, laughing as he added “It doesn't matter, really. I'll be the winner every time. I mean, that's what the hero does, right?”

Noctis sighed out “asshole” even as he pulled him down for another kiss.


End file.
